


Sharing a Lullaby

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Blue Steel Magic [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 4x06 coda, After 1920s Paris mission, Bar, Bisexual John Constantine, Bisexual Nate Heywood, Cuddling, Daddy Issues, Drinking, Dungeons & Dragons - freeform, Flirting, James Taylor - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Minotaur mention, Morning After, Sex, Talk of the past, Ties, Time Bureau, references to 4x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Post 4x06One of the Legends takes Nate up on his offer to visit, except it's one member he wasn't expecting. Still, he keeps to his word. Although he ends up having a better time than he thought he would. Sometimes it's the things you never expect that have the best way of surprising you.





	Sharing a Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Legends fic and hopefully not the last...
> 
> Inspired heavily by that look Constantine gave Nate in the library when he brought up the minotaur/lyre mythos...
> 
> Enjoy!

Nate finished his reports a half-hour ago, only staying later to organize them alongside other files that piled up on his desk throughout the day. It wasn’t the most glamorous of tasks within the Time Bureau, but he’s still riding the high from Paris. So he goes about his work, humming James Taylor under his breath.

“Quite a catchy song, that is,” a rough voice says from behind, “Can’t seem to get it out of my head, either.” Nate turns, finding John Constantine leaning up against his doorjamb.

He frowns, looking past him. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s gone for the day, Gary left with Mona…”

John rolls his eyes, advancing. “I’m not here for Gary, Nate. I’m dropping in.”

“You’re… what now?”

The magician smirks at him, picking up a small globe that was on Nate’s desk and playing with it. Spinning the Earth in large, clumsy strokes. “Dropping in, or have you forgotten already? The little offer you made?”

Nate remembers. It was said in good spirits, filled with friendship and the smell of pizza. Although he never thought anyone would take him up on it – except that’s a lie. He meant it for Ray and Sara, and Zari as well. Even Mick if he didn’t cause too much of a problem. Nate never thought John was willing to step inside the Time Bureau, especially for _him_. Wasn’t quite sure if he wanted him to, either.

“Oh, uh – no, I… I haven’t forgotten.” He closes the folder he was reading rather harshly, slapping it down on top of a pile of similar folders. “I… wasn’t sure anyone would be by so soon or – or late?”

“Well I run by me own clock now don’t I?” John says, now lounging on Nate’s desk, “Besides, would you rather I stop by when this whole factory is in a flurry of bureaucracy?”

“You… have a point.”

“Always do, love,” he winks, setting the globe down. “So, what d’you say you and me get a pint down at the nearest pub?” His hand is still on the knick-knack, a finger stuck somewhere in lower Asia, pushing the globe back and forth. Nate gawks at the motion, the comment affecting him strangely. He clings to the more familiar feeling of confusion, and runs with that.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, “could you repeat that?”

John huffs out a laugh. “Why don’t I put it in words you can _understand_ …” He clears his throat, drawing Nate’s eyes back up to his face. Putting his fists on his hips, he adopts an American accent. “Hey, pal, let’s go get a brewski at the bar! Maybe watch some American football – which is definitely not soccer!”

His exaggerated acting brings a smile to Nate’s face, and he chuckles into his hand. “Pretty good. How long have you been working on that?”

“I had a few-night stands with a speech pathologist,” John tells him, “not only was the bloke a good lay – but he taught me a few things. Anything to help with deception.”

“Must be good for D and D?”

“When I’m dungeon master,” John shrugs, “but honestly that’s few and far between. I love playing the game rather than creating a story.”

Nate agrees. “Besides,” he says, “Ray rarely ever gives it up.”

“I’ll say – the Boy Scout has a stranglehold on the job. Runs a good game but a _mighty_ big nag when it comes to the rules.”

He feels somewhat bad at the laugh he shares with John, hoping Ray can forgive him. Nate takes a sweeping glance across his desk, biting at his lip. ‘ _I can finish this tomorrow…_ ’ He looks up at John, who watches him with a strange gleam in his eye. ‘ _Must be a magic thing…_ ’

“So… up for a little hair of the dog?”

He rolls his eyes, standing. “Not that… but I can go for a beer or two.”

John’s face brightens immensely, clapping Nate on the back as he leads them out of the office. “Trust me, Nate,” he says, “it won’t be just two.”

Nate isn’t sure whether that’s a good or bad thing. 

* * *

They find a bar a few blocks between the Time Bureau and the apartment Nate rented out. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall, barely filled with people. And those that are there don’t look like they’ve come from a regular nine-to-five. Nate snags a booth with barely any holes in the vinyl while John brought over two bottles. They drank them and a few more, and swapped tales all the while. It’s John’s turn again, and Nate listens, rapt by the other man’s smoke-tinged voice.

“…and I was carried away by these little buggers, like tiny paramedics, all the way back to the camp! Let’s just say I was glad _someone_ paid attention when ol’ _Camp Counselor_ Ray was speaking!” Nate snorts into his drink, trying not to choke on his laughter. He’s not sure whether John’s actually told a funny story or if it was the fourth beer helping, but he enjoys his time with the Waverider’s resident magician. And if he finds himself staring a bit too long at John from time to time, he doesn’t put much thought into that, either.

“I wish I could have been there,” Nate says, “I always wanted to go to a summer camp.”

“You’ve never been?”

“Until I was a teenager I couldn’t even leave my house,” he tells him, “Was barely allowed to do other things like a _normal_ boy, so of course summer camp was out of the question. It wouldn’t have been fun, either, with my folks. Mom would have probably called every other day to make sure I didn’t get a splinter and bleed out across the campgrounds.”

“Did she think all summer camps were like that Friday the 13th crap?”

“What? No – did… you didn’t know I was hemophiliac?”

“You _were_?”

Nate nods. “Until I started hanging out with the Legends and could, y’know, turn into _steel_. Good thing, too. If I still had my little problem I’d have bit it a long time ago.”

“That’d be a shame,” John says, “Then we never would have met… this whole night would be a wash.” He casually tosses out another wink, playing with the neck of his bottle, dragging his forefinger and thumb up and down slowly.

Nate drags his gaze away, meeting John’s raised brow and smirk. He shifts in his seat, searching for a verbal life preserver. He doesn’t much care for what he throws out. “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Did you go to camp?”

“Not in the usual sense…”

This piques Nate’s curiosity. He tilts his drink at John. “What do you mean?”

“My old pa never sent me off to the country side or what not,” he explained, “but some nights I did have to _camp_ outside when he locked me out.”

Nate winces. “Ouch. Sorry I – I didn’t mean to bring up old memories –“

“You did nothing of the sort,” John waves him off, “Wound’s healed up. Besides, not like I didn’t get my revenge when I could. Having it _now_ I suppose… breathing, drinking,” he glances up at Nate from between his lashes, “with a pretty lad no less.”

He actually chokes on his drink this time. Nate coughs up the beer that slipped down the wrong pipe. When he finally rights his breathing, John looks at him with amusement. Nate knows he’s sinking, but he isn’t sure what to do about it. “He wasn’t a fan of you with…” He doesn’t say it, but the very pointed nod of his head and tap of the bottle’s neck is as good as words.

“Wasn’t very much a fan of _anything_ I did, really” John shrugs, sipping at his beer, “but no, _that_ bit of news was a sore subject for that drunken lump of a man. What about your dad?”

“What _about_ Hank?”

“Does he care if you…” Now he taps at his bottle’s neck, smirking.

Nate flushes a bright red. He fumbles, “Hank doesn’t – he doesn’t think that matters. Barely bat an eye when Ava mentioned she had a girlfriend, although if he heard it was Sara he might be more concerned about _favoritism_. And I – I don’t know about _me_ if I – if I were to bring… I’ve never, I mean – the only guy I hooked up with wasn’t looking for anything more…” He takes a deep breath. “He’d be okay with it… I think?”

He scoffs. “You’re very certain on the matter.”

“You met the man.”

“That I did,” John nods, “And you _could_ be right. He might be a bit of a stiff one but there are some surprises in him. Like his song; didn’t expect him to know how to play the guitar.”

Nate smiles, the chords starting up again in his mind, easing him back from the ledge. “Yeah, back when I was younger sometimes he’d… he’d sing me to sleep. If I was having a bad day or feeling lonely…” He sighs, “Before we started butting heads.”

John holds his bottle aloft, angled towards Nate. “Parents,” he says, “they think they always know what’s best.” Nate clinks their drinks together sadly. “For what it’s worth though, love,” he continues, “I’m pretty glad you’re not some carbon copy of your old man. I mean… it was pretty _sexy_ how you knew that myth about Daedalus and the lyre.”

“Oh, that was… nothing, really,” Nate rubs at his neck, “When you came to us about magic and mythical creatures I had Gideon stock the library and just… read. Before the powers, that’s what I was good at. Spent most of my childhood behind books.”

“Books are good, I’ll agree with you on that,” John tells him, “Especially your library’s collection. I’ve become _comfortable_ in there, as I’m sure you’re _very aware_.”

An image of a naked John springs to mind, and Nate barely clamps down on the gasp clawing in his throat. ‘ _Can he have a conversation without bringing it back to sex for five **seconds**?_’

“I… am.” He cringes, readying to pour more beer down his throat. His plan doesn’t work, foiled by the empty bottle. Nate pouts at it.

John gestures to his finished drink. “Looks like we’re out.”

“Seems like it.” Nate sighs, standing, “Probably for the best. I have to get up early for work.”

“ _Work_ ,” John shudders, all the disgust he could force out of his mouth with that one word surprising Nate. “ _Bloody_ awful and _boring_ is what that is.”

Nate’s lips twitch. “Then what do you call what you do?”

“A hobby, sometimes. Lifestyle when I feel like it.” He stands as well, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“You don’t have to –“

“Nonsense,” John winds an arm around Nate’s waist, guiding him out of the bar and into the night, “I was the one who talked you into this nightcap. Might as well make sure you get home safely.”

“I’m not _drunk_ , not even the littlest bit _tipsy_ ,” he tells him, letting the other man take lead, “I can’t – take a left right here – I can’t get drunk anymore after the serum.”

“Then maybe I just want to see where you live, then – another block or do I make a right now?”

“Another block.” He still hasn’t pulled away, and neither has John. His hand sits heavy on his waist, like a hot coal. Except it’s a soothing burn, like all his worries are melting out of him. Nate glimpses John’s profile, taking it in.

The other man had a ruggedness he appreciated. A similar look to the war-weary soldier Nate saw in picture after picture on battlefields during his studies. The same pictures he’d study over and over that made him realize guys could make his heart stir in the same way as girls did. His eyes were the color of whiskey, and Nate could picture himself getting wasted on them. Even his perpetual five-o’clock shadow temps him, begging Nate to drag his own face across it, see what it feels like.

“This the place?” John startles him back to the present. He eyes Nate, as if he could tell what was just on his mind. Nate finally pulls away, a rush of cold meeting the line of warmth that the British magician pressed into him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, digging for his keys. Nate misses the keyhole a few times, but gets it eventually, turning the lock and entering. John follows right behind him, spreading the earlier heat from one side across his entire back.

Nate could turn him away then. Tell him he can climb the three flights alone and have them part ways now. But he can’t. They journey together towards his door, keys shaking in his hands. When they get there, he pauses, one hand on the doorknob, the other hovering by the keyhole.

John whispers, “What seems to be the problem?”

“If I open this door, then this is really happening,” Nate says, “I’m just… nervous, is all.”

“You know, we don’t _have_ to do _anything_. This has been good enough for me. I’ve kicked the ball onto your side of the field.”

Nate can’t help the laugh that stutters out of him, knocking his head against his door. “Soccer metaphor, really?”

“Call it bloody football or there _definitely_ won’t be anything happening tonight.”

He has to ask. “What about Gary?”

“Gary and I had our fun,” John tells him, “we can, too. Or are you still hung up on the whole… Amaya/Charlie thing?”

“There’s always going to be a part of me that will be,” Nate says, “So… you’re not looking for anything _else_?”

John scoffs. “I could probably stay and cuddle for an extra fifteen minutes, love, but that’s all you’re getting from me. I’m not the type you want haunting your doorstep night after night. Magic and romance don’t go hand in hand.”

“Then why ask me out tonight?”

“You _intrigued_ me,” he says, “In that suit, with your… _confidence_. Standing up for yourself to your father, asserting yourself… even with that bloody _lyre_ … I mentioned already how _sexy_ you were. Adulthood is a good look on you, Nate. Made me want to know more of you in… _any_ way I could.”

The steel rushes over him then, covering every inch of skin. John steps back, and Nate turns, chasing him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, powering down, “I got a… a little _too_ excited. That… that tends to happen when I… when I…”

John closes the distance once more, faces mere inches apart. He brushes his thumb against Nate’s cheek, and he gasps at the contact. “Well, here’s hoping I can make you do that again.”

He kisses him, and it feels like fire. Like a powerful inferno engulfing him, and not even his powers could protect him. He’d either melt or burn, and neither option worried him. He gladly stayed in the heart of the fire, clutching at the lapels of John’s trench coat, dragging him closer.

“Eager, aren’t ya?” John pants, nipping at Nate’s lip.

He pulls back, staring at the wide and blown-out pupils in the other man’s eyes; probably as large as his own. “Bed. We should… not out here.”

John chuckles. “I’d be happy to, love, you only need open the _door_ first.”

Nate glances down at his hand, where his keys lay _bent_. “I – uh… my spare set is inside. Do you think you could?” John sighs, but kneels down with his palms out. He waves them around his lock, whispering Latin, the tips of his fingers crackling a bright orange. It’s over as soon as it starts. He stands, opening the door with ease.

“You’re better than any locksmith.”

“And easier to please,” he nods inside, “Should we get back to it, then?”

Nate’s kiss is answer enough. He drives them through the threshold, their hands tangling into each other’s clothes, trying to latch onto something. Nate grabs fistfuls of John’s coat once more before tugging at it, trying to tear it away. “Cheeky, aren’t ya?” John says, smiling into another kiss. He flips them around, ripping Nate’s shirt open while he kicks the door shut.

They step apart once more, gasping for breath. John asks, “Bed, love?”

“This way.” They’re stripping the entire way there, flinging clothes like breadcrumbs from the living room over to the door to the right of the kitchen. Nate thanks his morning self for the intrusive thought to make his bed that morning, usually uncaring as to how it looks most of the time. John’s slipping his belt off of him as he turns down the covers. Once he steps out of his pants, he turns to look at the other man in a similar state of undress.

“What are you feeling like doing, Nate?”

“Nothing too big,” he tells him, “haven’t… haven’t done anything like that in years. Keep it slow like…”

“Like two cocks sliding up against each other?”

Nate laughs. “Yeah, that I can work with.”

John hops into bed, rolling over, glancing at the empty space. “Well, are you going to get in?”

He does, but not before bringing out his lube from its place in his nightstand. Tossing it on the bed before jumping in as well, drawing the covers up and over them both. Nate giggles, the amazement of the night bubbling forth now that he’s safely cocooned with the other man.

“I haven’t done anything yet, love.” John looks at him tenderly, rubbing calloused hands up and down Nate’s chest.

“I know I know I’m just… this feels _good_.”

“I’d hope so,” John says, leaning in close, brushing his lips up against Nate’s, “make it good for _both_ of us.” They continue kissing, John jerking Nate’s hips closer to his, rubbing their crotches together. Nate slips his hands up into the other man’s blond locks, threading his fingers through them as he gasps and pants into his mouth. “Just like that, love. God, is your cock made of steel, too?”

“I – I can make it,” Nate tells him, stuttering as John trails open-mouthed kisses down his neck, “It won’t – won’t feel as good as _this_. No _friction_. No _heat_.”

“Good to know.” John gropes behind him for the lube, a successful mission if his keening is anything to go by. “Knickers _off_.” Nate shimmies out of his boxers, then helps John with his own. Their cocks brush up against each other, and it makes Nate’s even harder, a little precome leaking out. He moves back up, where they can easily gaze into each other’s eyes. Nate’s face hurts from smiling, and John’s might as well. “Hey.”

He snorts. “Hey yourself.”

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

John brushes his knuckles down Nate’s chest, all the while whispering soft encouragements. His fingers take their cocks together, and the cold lotion hits against his flushed cock, and Nate hisses at the wondrous feeling. “Haven’t even got to the best part,” John tells him, his other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Nate nods, leaning in closer to John, head bowed. John kisses the crown of his head before he starts pumping, their cocks bobbing together in passionate synchronicity. Like pistons in a steam engine they move up and down simultaneously, rubbing against one another. The heat spreads all the way up Nate’s body, from a bit of sweat on his brow to the curl of his toes.

He feels the pitch of his stomach, his cock slick with lube and come, both his and John’s. The other man whines low in the back of his throat, a deep rumble that rolls over Nate like a crushing wave. He finally uses his own hands, instead of leaving them to twitch at his sides. Nate reaches for John’s neck and yanks him in for a kiss. He happily succumbs to his pulling, and their lips meet in searing joy. It’s the final push that helps Nate blow his load all over he and John. He moans into John’s mouth, biting down on the other man’s lower lip.

“Bloody hell,” John breathes, coming right alongside Nate. They lie like that, on their sides, blinking at each other while a pool of their come dries quickly between them on their bodies and Nate’s sheets. The thought has him laughing, and John pouts. “I thought I did a great job…”

“No it’s – you were _great_ ,” Nate says, “I just realized I’m going to need to change my sheets and – and I don’t _have_ any extra sheets. Some adult I am…”

John smirks, laying a sticky hand against Nate’s stomach. His eyes glow amber, muttering in Latin again. He feels their come disappear, almost as if nothing happened, as John’s hand burns hot against his skin. “Whoa…”

“Really great trick,” John tells him, “Like my own Unseen Servant.”

“D and D in the bedroom? Really?”

“Nerd like you, I figured that might be a _turn on_.”

“I think it’s a little _late_ for that.”

“I don’t know. _I’m_ always ready for a second round.”

Nate shoves at John jokingly, both men laughing at each other. They kiss again, with less intensity than all the other times but still brimming with passion. John reaches around and brings their chests together, Nate smiling into the embrace. He pulls back. “Thank you.”

John raises a brow. “Not sure what you’re thanking me for? Kinda a two person job, innit?”

“Yeah but I… I never would have thought –“

“Give yourself more credit love,” John tells him, “you managed to get a girl like Amaya to fancy you. Now I’m prettier, of course, but with lower standards. This was bound to happen at some point.”

Nate scoffs, knocking his head against John’s. “Some point…” He lets himself succumb to the post-orgasm haze; his body pliant under the other man’s wandering hands, kneading at his back. ‘ _Maybe he’s wrong… magic and romance can go together_.’

“What’s going on in that head of yours, love?”

“Just thinking…”

“I thought I took care of that? Or have I lost my touch already…”

Nate cracks open an eye, a sex-ruffled and giddy John staring back at him. “You’re touch is amazing… I _really_ like it.” At that, the other man stills, the smile slipping from his face.

“Trust me,” he says, expression darkening, “you wouldn’t.”

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“Spend enough time around me, and you’d be singing a different tune.”

Nate yawns, too tired to deal with John’s cryptic nature. “Just stop talking and hold me. You said fifteen minutes… and I’m holding you to it.” He burrows in closer to John, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

John tightens his grip. “Alright love… fifteen minutes, then.”

Nate slips into sleep not soon after, John’s face burrowed into his hair. The magician hums a familiar tune, one that makes his passage into unconsciousness even faster. ‘ _James Taylor_ …’

* * *

The morning rush of the Time Bureau only worsens Nate’s mood. He woke up late to an empty bed and a dirty sink. John stuck to his word, not being there in the morning. But he didn’t have to leave such a mess. The dishes he cleaned and the clothes he picked up off the floor threw off his pre-work routine. It wasn’t all that bad, however. In the other man’s rush to leave, he forgot his tie. The red silk was hidden by Nate’s suit jacket, and still smelled of John’s smoke and cologne.

Wearing it to work might have been risky, but it was the only good part of his day so far. Especially since Ava greets him with a stern frown. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” he tells her, trailing his boss as she walks further into the Bureau, “I had a few things I needed to take care of before…”

“I can clearly see that,” she says, glancing at his neck, “If you want I have some foundation you can – uh… use?”

Nate brushes his knuckles up against his skin, remembering how closely John showered him in affection, especially one particular area. “Well – uh, that wasn’t what – I – I…”

“I don’t need to know, Nate,” she says, stopping in front of his office, “Not while we’re on the clock. We can talk about her later, if you want.”

He blanches, looking away as Ava’s impish grin unfurls. “Maybe…” she pats him on the shoulder as a goodbye, leaving just as Gary starts to pass.

Gary stops, scanning the room, his nose twitching. “Something wrong Gary?” Nate asks.

“It’s weird,” he tells Nate, “I thought I smelt something familiar, like… no, it can’t be.” Gary glances at his tie. “Great color, it looks nice with the blue suit.”

“Thanks…” Finally alone, Nate shuffles back over to his desk, tackling the work he left for himself. But not before taking one last whiff of John’s tie. Smiling, he gets back to it.

**Author's Note:**

> You like? Honestly I was a total Gary/John shipper until they introduced Mona - because those two nerds can be, like, rays of sunshine together. So if John was to get with anyone I think he and Nate would have a good dynamic.
> 
> Drop a kudos/comment to let me know what you think?


End file.
